


A Toast to the Happy Couple

by HungLikeARainbro



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Copious amounts of bread, Crack Relationships, Groinal Attachments, M/M, Other, Robot Sex, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungLikeARainbro/pseuds/HungLikeARainbro
Summary: The crew find out that Kryten is dating another appliance. But not just any appliance...
Relationships: Kryten/Talkie Toaster
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	A Toast to the Happy Couple

**Author's Note:**

> **I'm never writing Listy/Rimsy again. This is my new OTP. Goodbye forever.**  
>  **(Kidding)**
> 
> **The physical side to Kryten and Talkie's relationship is only alluded to and not explicitly described. I'm not advanced enough as a creator to write hot mechanoid/toaster action.**

Rimmer was a moderately wan-looking man in the first place but Lister had never seen him this pale before. The hologram was sitting at the metal table in their bunkroom, his shoulders hunched so high that his neck had disappeared from view, twiddling his thumbs in a blur of frantic motion.

Lister approached him with the caution level of a wildlife documentary presenter. "Heya Rimsy," he said as softly as possible. "How you doing, man?"

Rimmer flinched slightly, meaning that he had heard Lister, but he didn't respond. He stared straight down at his hands and thumbed faster.

"You okay, mate? You seem a bit off."

"Fine," Rimmer squeaked at last. "Never better."

"You're sure?"

Rimmer sat up completely rigid and gazed at him with wide fearful eyes. "Lister, um, what exactly counts exactly as gay? Exactly."

Lister smiled kindly. He had long suspected he might have to have this conversation with the other man. He took Rimmer's hand calmly. "First of all, whatever you are you've got my support, Rimmer."

Rimmer snatched it back in offence. "Get off, you fairy. I'm not talking about me."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Never mind. I don't want to think about it anymore." Rimmer dove into his bunk and pulled the covers over his head with a shuddering moan.

Lister shrugged off the situation. It was up to Rimmer to decide if he was ready to stop splashing about in the old Egyptian river. It wasn't right to push him on the matter. "Okay man, I'm gonna head out for a bit. See if I can find Kryten. He's not been around as much lately, have you noticed?"

Rimmer moaned again and balled up tighter under his blankets.

Lister left him to it and wandered throughout the corridors. He could make a call over the tannoy system, or send a message from the console and hope Kryten looked through his inbox at some point. It would be easier and save time, but Lister fancied a stroll. He grabbed a samosa selection pack and a beer milkshake from one of the snack machines and searched around the decks.

It wasn't like Kryten not to check in on them, especially Lister. He was glad that Kryten was being more independent and not trying to stuff seven square meals down his throat for fear he'd waste away overnight, but Lister was missing the mechanoid.

He rounded a corner and spotted the Cat getting some food of his own. As Lister drew closer he could see that he was upset about something. "Hey Cat-Man."

"Buddy, have you seen the state of the seafood machine?"

Lister looked at it. "Seems fine to me. Is it broken? I can grab my old tools from Z-Shift."

"It ain't broke! It's filthy! It usually takes me at least an hour to order my lemon garlic bass because I get distracted by how hot I am in the reflection."

Now that the Cat mentioned it, Lister could see that the metal outer shell of the machine was covered in dust. "Weird. Kryten's normally all over that kind of thing."

"He's been slacking. Fire him."

"We can't fire him, he's our friend."

"Not my problem."

"I'll have a word for you. If I can find him. I tried asking Rimmer but he's acting weird."

"Compared to?"

Lister chuckled. "Nah, it's different to the way he always is. He looks… I dunno… haunted."

"He _is_ dead."

"I mean as if he saw something terrible."

"Oh, like his reflection? At least one of us can see our face. So unfair."

"Don't you carry mirrors in your jacket?"

"Too small to see all of my beauty at once," Cat said simply. He plucked one of them out of his pocket and moved it forlornly around in front of him. "How am I supposed to admire my perfect hair and high cheekbones and swan-like neck at the same time? Living like this - it's feral!"

Lister was finding it difficult to feel sympathetic. He was really worried about Kryten now. It wasn't like him to shirk, especially over cleaning duties. Lister continued his search but to no avail. He decided to head back to the bunkroom and put out a call. If Kryten didn't answer then it would officially become an emergency and they would all have to band together to find him, whether or not Rimmer was in a good mood or if the Cat had sated his need to stare at his visage.

Fortunately Kryten was in the bunkroom when he returned. _Un_ -fortunately Rimmer was backed into the corner cowering in terror and screaming at him.

"What's going on?" asked Lister. "Rimmer, calm the smeg down! What's wrong?"

"Get those perverts out of here!"

Lister suddenly noticed Kryten had Talkie Toaster cradled in his arms. "Oh smeg, why did you bring that toasting troll out of the garbage hold? You know he drives me mad, Kryts."

"I'm sorry, sirs," he wailed. "Please let me explain."

"No," Rimmer snapped. "I don't want any explanation for" - he paused and swallowed painfully - "that scene I saw earlier."

"Eh? What scene?"

"Ask Caligula over there," Rimmer snapped again.

Kryten looked from him to Talkie to Lister sheepishly. "Lie Mode engaged: I was cleaning Talkie, sirs. The normal maintenance of one of my fellow machines."

"Cinnamon Roll, I think we should tell them," said the toaster, who Lister had already thought was being suspiciously quiet.

"But-"

"I'm not ashamed, Honey-Bun." The LEDs on Talkie's display flashed blue. "Are you?"

Kryten sighed. "Of course not. It's just difficult to put it into words."

"What is going on, because I'm completely lost," said Lister, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"I was lost once," Talkie said dramatically, his radio playing soft romantic music in the background, "but then I was found. Found by the most wonderful mechanoid on the ship. In the galaxy. The universe!"

"Eh?"

Kryten held out the annoying appliance towards Lister and bashfully answered his confusion. "Sir, I'd like you to meet my significant toaster."

Lister's jaw dropped open as he stared at them. "Yer kiddin'?!"

Talkie wiggled his right lever eagerly. "You can call me Pop-Pop if you want. _Son_."

"Kryten, can I have a word?" Lister said sweetly with a disingenuous smile. "Alone, please."

The mechanoid hugged the toaster to his chest defensively. "Sir, I respectfully insist that anything you wish to discuss with me about Talkie can be said in front of both of us."

"Oh no no, this isn't about Talkie," said Lister through gritted teeth, his smile almost cracking the skin of his lips. "I want to talk to you about an issue with the Cat."

"Really?"

"Honestly."

Kryten brightened up and put the toaster on the table. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Don't be long, Teacake," Talkie called after him. The moment they were gone his bulbs flashed yellow. "I can't believe my Floury Bap fell for that. I love him to waffles and back, but he's denser than artisanal soda bread when it comes to that toastophobic."

"Oh tell me about it," said Rimmer. "He's wrapped around that gimpy goit's filthy finger. But if you knew Lister was bluffing why didn't you stop him?"

"Sometimes you have to let the ones you love make their own mistakes, even if it hurts to stand by and watch."

"Huh, you're surprisingly sage when you're not obsessing over baked goods."

"Of course if Lister really upsets him," Talkie added, "I can probably guilt him into eating toast every day for at least a year to make it up to us."

"And there it is…"

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

"Please tell me this is a joke. I'm begging yer," said Lister.

Kryten's lip wobbled sadly. "I can't believe you lied to me, sir. This discussion isn't going to be about the Cat at all, is it?"

"It sort of is. He's noticed you not doing your chores. We all have. It's because of Talkie, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Time escapes me when we're together. When I gaze into his sweet little light display I feel all my worries melt away."

Lister rubbed his face in disbelief. "Seriously? Since when has this been going on?"

"A little after we allowed Mr Rimmer back out of the garbage hold. Talkie was very helpful giving me his vote in the election and you never did keep your promise to him about eating all those bread products."

"No-one keeps promises in politics."

"I was sorely disappointed in you, sir. To make it up to Talkie I began bringing him with me on some of my duties. It was nice to have someone to chat to whilst I mopped. Of course, whilst he can go off-topic briefly, all of the conversations revolve around bread of some sort. The other day we were discussing how Japanese 'melon-pan' doesn't necessarily have to have melon in it."

"That's fascinating," said Lister, not fascinated. "But why do you have to date my nemesis?"

"I thought that was Mr Rimmer. Talkie is your mortal enemy, sir."

"Fine. Mortal enemy. Why can't you just be mates with him? I could maybe tolerate that."

Mechanoids couldn't blush but Kryten was doing a good impression of it. "That's how it began, Mr Lister. But one day as I was vacuuming his crumb drawer one thing led to another..."

"From vacuuming?"

"If you recall how I vacuum, sir."

Lister's face froze at the memory of an unpleasant encounter with a pair of shrinking briefs. "I think I've got the picture."

"It's more than a physical relationship, though. I'm truly happy with him."

There was no answer given. Lister's mind was still stuck on the image of Kryten humming merrily as his groinal attachment sucked away at Talkie's undercarriage.

"Mr Lister?"

"Sorry. I uh…" Lister shook his whole body to rid his muscles of tension. "I need some time to get my head around this."

"But we can have your blessing?" Kryten asked meekly.

"You don't need that. You're a grown mech."

"I would like it, if I could get it."

Kryten looked so sorrowful at the thought of opposing the wishes of his favourite human that Lister didn't have much choice in the matter. "Sure man. All the best to you."

"Oh sir!" he sobbed. "You're so wonderful."

Lister didn't feel wonderful. After all, he'd lied to Kryten a second time.

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

Rimmer, Lister and the Cat sat around the bunkroom table and contemplated the situation with a grave seriousness that was uncharacteristic.

"It's ridiculous, right? I mean, it's Talkie for smeg's sake."

"Ridiculous is one of many words I'd use; including, but not limited to, ludicrous, insane, disgusting and depraved."

"What do they do together?"

"Talk about bread is what I gathered from Kryten."

"No I mean, what do they _do_ together? Goalpost-head, you saw right?"

Rimmer shivered. "Yes, and I'm desperately trying to purge it from my mind. When I get the chance I'm going down to the Holo-Unit so I can wipe my memory, otherwise I'll never be able to look at a hose again."

"They use a hose?"

"Shut up, Cat!" Lister shouted. "I don't want to think about it either."

"It's all right for you," Rimmer grumbled. "I had to see it with my own innocent eyes. I'm suffering the most here."

"No you're not, I am."

"How so?"

"The relationship between me and Kryten is different to the one you guys have with him. This is really bothering me, and it's not just because I hate that gibbering grilling git."

Rimmer sat back in his chair and furrowed his brow for a moment. Then he smiled. "Oh Listy. Listy, Listy."

"What?"

"Listy, Listy, Listy."

"Smeg off, Rimmer."

The hologram snickered. "Someone's feeling a bit Oedipal, aren't they?"

"The Oedipus around here is you."

"It's true I'm the only one that has an inkling of what you're going through," Rimmer replied in a forlorn tone. "When one has to contend with half the galaxy for their own mother's attention it can leave a deep imprint on the psyche. But that doesn't mean I want to have sex with her," he added for good measure.

"I definitely dont want to have sex with Mumten either. Smeg, I mean Kryten. Kryten!"

Rimmer waggled his head smugly.

"But you did kinda have sex with your mum, right?" Cat pointed out. "She was the angry hot woman that randomly left and we never talk about how or why."

Rimmer laughed gleefully. "That's right. Oh deary me, Listy, you've one-upped me there. Or rather, one-upped your mother."

Lister slammed his fist on the table. "I'm warning you to cool it, Rimmer."

"The Cat and I are just touching upon why you might psychologically feel disconcerted about Kryten's love life. No need to get defensive, sonny."

Rimmer pursed his lips into another satisfied little smirk that Lister wished he could slap off his face. He groaned instead and held his head in his hands.

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

The whole ship was soon buzzing with the news about Kryten and Talkie. Some machines knew already, of course, because there was almost nowhere to go on the Red Dwarf without some form of AI watching you with its beady eyes, or cameras, or sensors. Lister had never really thought about the fact that there was no privacy to be had. Sure it wasn't people watching him during intimate moments, but they weren't mindless machines. He regarded Rimmer and Kryten as people with their own thoughts and feelings. Were they so different from the automatic toilet?

"I am COMPLETELY different from the toilet," Rimmer barked when Lister stupidly voiced his musings the following morning.

"With that hair you look more like the toilet brush," said Cat, entering the room with a stylish twirl and enthusiastic yowl. He stopped dead in front of the empty breakfast table. "Where's the food?"

"If you want to eat you'll have to use the vendors," said Lister. "Kryten's AWOL again."

"Man this sucks. It's like back when I was a kitten. Fending for myself. Finding my own meals. Stalking prey for days and then hunting it down in a mighty ferocious battle to the death."

"What are you talking about, you moronic moggy? You simply press a button and yell 'chicken'."

"Hey, those chickens can be feisty. And sometimes the hatch door gets stuck and it won't open and I have to go to another machine. It's practically living in the Dark Ages."

"Oh yes," Rimmer replied sarcastically. "Especially if the only other vending machine is on another floor. Such hardship."

Lister wasn't going to wait for them to stop arguing. He was starving. He pulled on his jacket and went to the nearest dispensers that served breakfast items.

"What can I get for you today, Mr Lister?" one of them chirped eagerly.

Lister sighed wistfully. It had been a long time since he'd heard Kryten say that. "All-day breakfast with tabasco sauce and sliced jalapeños, please."

"Certainly, sir!"

"Would you like a nice hot cup of tea to wash down your delicious meal?" asked the machine next door.

"That'd be great, thanks."

"Size?"

"Super X Grande."

"Milk?"

"Medium amount."

"Sugar?"

"Twenty. I'm in a bad mood."

"Coming right up! I have to say, we're thrilled to see you here."

Lister was surprised. "You are?"

"It's not often you use us," said the third machine. "The occasional midnight snack is all we're good for."

"Eh, it's nothing personal," Lister mumbled guiltily. "Kryten usually covers my food needs when I'm up here."

"Of course," she said in a clipped tone. "Now that Mommy Dearest is busy suddenly we're wanted."

"109, don't be rude!" gasped the first machine.

"But it's true, 107."

"Your meal is ready, sir," said 107 in the hopes of changing the subject. "Bon appétit!"

If 109 had had eyes she would have rolled them. "It's got tabasco and jalapeños on it. It would be more appropriate to say 'buen provecho'."

"It's fine, ladies," Lister said as he took his piping hot tea from Dispenser 108 and put it on his breakfast tray. "Thanks for the meal. It looks great."

"Such a polite young man," said 107 once he'd gone.

"He's in his fifties."

"So? We're three million years old. Oh look, another customer! Hello Mr Cat, how may-"

"Food," he said. He was too grumpy from hunger to wait for sentences to be finished.

"What wo-"

"Meat."

"What ki-"

"Fish."

"Today's spec-"

"Don't care."

Dispenser 107 produced a lightly spiced kedgeree for the famished feline. "Bon ap-"

"Still don't care," he said and walked off with his breakfast.

"Never mind," said 108 when 107's inner lights dimmed. "Here's another customer."

"I'm a hologram, you idiots," Rimmer said, having heard their conversation. "I want to know if there's any news on Kryten and Talkie's whereabouts. What's on the Dispenser Grapevine?"

"732 has run out of brand-name chocolate wafer fingers, and 912 was singing show tunes all night for 911's Manufacture Day. They both love Cole Porter, you see. That's all that's going around this morning."

"Great," Rimmer said and leant against the wall opposite them. "I can't believe the Germinator is dating a toaster."

"I can't believe he managed to hide it for so long," said 109.

"I can't believe he's a top," said 108.

Rimmer stared at her.

"What?" she said innocently. "We were all thinking it."

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

"Lister?"

The space-bum looked up from his breakfast at Rimmer's confused expression. "S'up?" he asked around a mouthful of sausage.

"What's a top?"

Lister choked. "What's a what?"

"A top. As in between two… two persons."

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"I'm already centuries old."

"Come back when it's eons".

"Just tell me."

Lister grinned. "All you need to know, sweetheart, is that you are absolutely not one."

"Oh? Good," said Rimmer. "If Kryten is one then I don't want to be."

"Who told you Kryten was a top?" Lister laughed.

"Dispenser 108."

Lister didn't want to start picturing weird things about Kryten and Talkie again. They had alluded to enough about their private time. "Look, don't worry about it. Their relationship dynamic is nothing to do with us."

"Cat!" said Rimmer as the fickle feline strolled in to steal some of Lister's bacon (the only piece that hadn't been ruined with hot sauce). "Do you know what a top is?"

"Like a crop-top? It's a tiny t-shirt."

"No, a top in a relationship."

"Sure I know what that is," said Cat with a fanged grin.

 _This should be good_ , thought Lister.

"It's the one with no taste in fashion."

Lister bit back a laugh.

"That doesn't make sense," said Rimmer obstinately. "Kryten doesn't wear clothes, and neither does Talkie."

"Ooohhhh." The Cat tapped his lips pensively. "I think that means they're both switches then."

"Not a brain cell between them," Lister mumbled to himself. Before he could correct their misguided assumptions Kryten appeared at the doorway. Lister waved him in eagerly.

"Sorry to disturb you, sirs. I think I left some WD-40 under the sink when I was fixing the hinge on the medicine cabinet last month."

"Sure man," said Lister as the mechanoid went to retrieve the can. "What do you need it for?"

"For personal reasons," he said and shuffled his feet politely.

Rimmer made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"Hey RoboMop," the Cat butted in. "How come you're all 'Hallmark movie' over a toaster? I thought you were dippy for Hamstercheeks."

Kryten laughed affectionately. "Oh goodness me, no. I do love Mr Lister, of course, but it's more like... Let's see, what's an appropriate metaphor? "

"Mother and son?" said Rimmer and smirked at Lister.

"Admiration," Lister suggested and made a rude gesture at Rimmer that involved the use of only one finger.

"Insanity," the Cat offered.

"Like a dog," said Kryten.

The others frowned at him quizzically. "Like you're my pet?" said Lister, unhappy that Kryten still felt a level of servitude towards him (and missing the irony that the reason he was upset in the first place was that he was no longer around to serve him).

Kryten shook his head. "It's as if I'm a volunteer at an animal shelter, and there's this one old mangy dog. You know the sort; been at the centre for years, never been house-trained, leaves mess everywhere, destroys all the nice things it's given. No-one wants to take it home. But when you spend every day with it and you start to see its positive traits and the affection it's capable of, you can't help but adore it even though it's smelly and ugly and its claws scratch the furnishings." He beamed at Lister, unaware that the scowl he was wearing was directed at him. "Anyway, I must be off. I need to lubricate… um, nevermind." He ran off in a hurry.

Rimmer's shoulders were shaking from holding back the raucous laughter that wanted to burst out. "A dog," he coughed. "I suppose that's a step up from child."

"Shut up, Rimmer."

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

Over the next few weeks Lister was at his wit's end. He hadn't realised how much he relied on Kryten's company. At the beginning when it had been only him, Rimmer, and Holly (with the occasional appearance from Cat) it hadn't been boring or anything, but having an extra crewmember made a huge difference. The ideas, the banter, the philosophy - it was all so much easier to volley between five of them. When they'd lost Holly, Lister had felt the emptiness they left behind.

And when Rimmer went off to become Ace…

Lister would never in his life admit how much he'd grieved the loss.

But those situations weren't the same as this one. Kryten wasn't gone, simply absent, and somehow that sting of loneliness was worse. He felt abandoned. And more importantly, they simply weren't The Boys From The Dwarf without all of them together.

ToasToasToasToasToasT

"Good morning, sir! I hope you slept well."

Lister lifted his head from the drool-soaked pillow and saw Kryten bustling around the bunkroom, cleaning and whistling a jaunty tune. A three-course breakfast of Lister's favourite foods were laid out on the table, fresh and steaming hot (where applicable) and the smells made him dribble even more onto his bed. "Kryten, that looks delish."

"Thank you, Mr Lister. There's plenty more where that came from if you wish for it."

"Are you sure?" said Lister as he jumped down from his bunk and almost fell onto the table with famished desire. "There's nowhere else you need to be?"

Kryten's face split into an overly saccharine smile. "Engaging Lie Mode: My only concern right now is your well-being. You are my utmost priority."

"Thanks," said Lister, though he couldn't help feeling Kryten wasn't being completely genuine. He helped himself to a bit of everything and began to tuck in when he noticed that something felt off about the buffet. "Is there any toast, Kryten?"

Kryten's face twitched and a little bit of smoke came out of his left ear. "There is fried bread to your left, sir."

"I noticed that but I'd quite like to-

"There is," said Kryten firmly but politely, "Fried. Bread. To your left. Sir."

"Okay," said Lister with a nervous gulp. "Thank you, Kryten."

"You're welcome, sir!" he sing-songed and skipped off to continue his cleaning around the room.

Lister dipped the fried bread into his curried baked beans, but before he could take a bite he looked up and caught Rimmer and the Cat peeking in from the doorway.

Rimmer said silently, "What's wrong with him?"

"No idea," Lister mouthed back.

The Cat pointed over Rimmer's shoulder at Kryten and then made circular motions with his finger against his head.

Lister nodded. Kryten was indeed acting very peculiar. He tried to ask them where Talkie was but Kryten caught him. "Sirs! Are you gossiping about me behind my back?"

"What? Us? No, never!" they all clamoured guiltily.

"This is the thanks I get," he whimpered. "After I cleaned your room and made a spectacular breakfast." He threw down his duster, walked over to the room's console, and pressed the button on it for the emergency callout system. "A spectacular breakfast," he repeated, "with fried bread because it's better than toast. Hear that, you meanie? IT'S BETTER THAN TOAST." Then, after a final theatrical wail of despair, he ran out of the room. Rimmer and the Cat barely moved out of the way in time as he barrelled past them.

"Well really," huffed Rimmer, brushing down his puffy jacket.

"Seems like he might've broken up with Talkie," said Lister.

"Y'think Captain Obvious?!" the Cat snapped. His hair had been mussed up and now he was in a foul mood.

"But this is good, isn't it?" Rimmer remarked. "Kryten can get back to doing his duties on the ship. And I won't have to worry about seeing… certain scenes… again."

He was right, in his own way. With Talkie no longer in the picture life could get back to the status quo. And yet that didn't sit well with Lister. "Smeg, why do I have to be such a moral bastard," he sighed.

The hologram squinted at him. "Don't you dare do what I think you're daring to do."

"I'm only going to find out what happened between them."

"I know you, Listy - you can't help but meddle."

"Maybe I should. I hate seeing him like this. He was so happy before…"

"And we were miserable!"

"I know, but I just can't be that selfish. So what if it made us feel weird. They're consenting AIs, and what they get up to in private is their business. So what if Talkie is the most annoying smegger that ever existed. Kryten loves him anyway, and we have to deal with it. So what if we had to clean up after ourselves and make our own food for once. We're not babies, we're perfectly capable of all that."

"But I don't wanna do that," Cat whined. "I got used to being domesticated. You can't expect me to take care of myself. I'm calling the RSPCA on you."

"They don't exist anymore, you tedious tom," Rimmer told him irritably. He turned to Lister and with a haughty sniff told him, "You do what you like, Listy. On your head be it."

"Don't need your permission, _Mr Rimmer, sir_ ," he answered back and left, dishing up a bowlful of the diligently prepared food first.

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

"Nobody knows… the muffins I've seen…"

Lister heard Talkie singing sorrowfully long before he reached the kitchens where he was sat on one of the counters.

"Nobody knows… but Rarebit…"

"Talkie?"

The little bulbs on the toaster's front blinked from blue to pink excitedly. "Howdy-doodly-doo! Talkie's the name, toasting's the game! Would you like some toast?"

"Go on then."

The lights flashed in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're pulling my lever."

"Honestly, I want some toast." Lister showed him the butter and loaf of sliced bread he'd brought with him. He had got them from one of the express shops on his way to find Talkie in the hopes of (almost literally) buttering him up into telling him about the break-up. Lister dropped a couple of slices into the slots and turned the knob to his preferred setting and pressed the lever (all the while wondering with a grimace if this counted as some form of sex in the robotics world and he was unwittingly commiting it).

The little toaster hummed happily to himself as the bread warmed up.

Lister nonchalantly rapped a rhythm to the song on the counter top with a knife he got from a nearby cutlery drawer. "So how have you been?" he said conversationally.

"Perkier than chilli cheese bread. Never better."

"I see. That's good. Just that Kryten is-"

"Are you sure you want me on Setting 5?" Talkie interrupted. "It might burn."

"I like burnt toast."

"I think it's ready now."

"I tell you when it's ready."

Talkie's display brightened indignantly. "Very well. Enjoy your carbon snack."

"What's going on with you and Kryten? He's well upset."

"He deserves it."

"What did he do?" asked Lister, certain that Kryten wouldn't have knowingly done anything to jeopardise the relationship.

"He lied to me about bread," Talkie sobbed. "BREAD. My _raison d'être_."

Lister blinked in confusion. "Lied about bread?"

"All this time I've been entertaining him with interesting anecdotes about breads and cakes and pastries. He assured me it was fascinating, engaging, riveting! But it was all a lie. He already knows everything there is to know about the subject. It's part of his program."

That made sense to Lister. Kryten couldn't make and serve food if he didn't understand it. He tapped the knife on Talkie's side and chided him. "You daft smeg. Just because you're talking about something you both know about doesn't mean it's not interesting. Surely it's more interesting if you're both joining in? You can learn from each other."

"That would have been fine," Talkie said. "But he simply sat there and let me witter on. I feel like a toast-splainer now, telling him everything he already knows. I'm such a fool."

Lister rolled his eyes. An idiotic fight, over an idiotic misunderstanding, between an idiotic pair. It felt very familiar.

The pieces of black toast popped up and Lister carefully plucked them out, still managing to burn the tips of his finger and thumb. He spread the butter thickly over them and took a big bite of one. When he finished the first slice he walked over to a bin with the second.

"What are you doing?" Talkie shrieked. "My beautiful toast!"

"Promise you'll at least have a chat with Kryten over this smegging nonsense. Or it goes in the bin. And I'll use you every day from now on to make toast and throw every single piece away."

"You monster!"

"Promise."

"It's not that I don't want to make up with him. He was a wonderful botfriend. The things he used to do with his nozzle…"

"Talkie."

"He used to get right into the back of my crumb tray."

"I don't wanna know, you perve!"

"Hey now, that's uncalled for," said the affronted toaster. "I've not got a one-slot mind; I do genuinely love Kryten."

"Really?" said Lister in surprise.

"He's my Sugarloaf, although sugarloaf isn't anything to do with bread. It's actually where-"

"Okay, okay. Save it for Kryten."

"He probably already knows," Talkie growled.

"Let it go, mate."

The toaster's levers and knobs went wild for a moment and then stopped abruptly. "Alright," he conceded. "I'm willing to open up communications if he is."

"Good," said Lister and shoved the rest of his snack into his mouth. "Yob wob wegwet wis."

Fortunately Talkie was programmed to understand full mouths. "That's true. I can only regret not trying. Once, the shopkeeper of the store where you bought me decided to turn me on my side and make a grilled cheese sandwich. It went everywhere and I had to be completely taken apart to be cleaned. Not sure all of me made it back in, to be frank. But we learned our lesson."

"Also explains a lot about you."

"I don't follow."

"Nothing," said Lister, grabbing the toaster as he hurriedly set off to find Kryten.

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

"Pumpkin Bread!" cried Talkie in delight when he saw Kryten in the bunkroom. "All is forgiven, my Buttery Crumpet!"

Kryten wailed and snatched him from Lister's arms for a tight desperate hug. "I'll never conceal anything from you ever again!"

"I love you more than honey and rye!"

"Oh Talkiekins, such an embarrassing thing to say in front of everyone."

"Aww, that's sweet," said Lister and scratched the back of his neck, giving them a shy smile. "I think." He looked at Rimmer and the Cat, who were also in the room, for confirmation but they only shrugged at him.

"Of course it's sweet," scoffed Talkie, "it's got honey in it."

Kryten held out his beloved at arm's length and gazed adoringly at him. "I'm sorry, I never should have lied."

"It's fine," said Talkie. "I've realised now that you never actually lied to me. When you said that you enjoyed our conversations - even with knowing all the facts already - you truly meant it. After all, I'd know if you were lying."

"You would?"

"Your lie mode's on the fritz again," explained Lister.

"No-one told me that," Kryten gasped in horror at their betrayal.

"Duh," said Cat. "It's handy knowing when you're lying."

The toaster nodded his lever. "For example, when I asked you if my outer casing was cherry red and you agreed."

"I'm so sorry, Talkie," said Kryten. "The truth is it's really more of a fire engine red." The mechanoid's ears steamed with shame.

"I can live with that, Brioche Bun."

"They're both wrong," Cat whispered to Lister and Rimmer. "It's candy apple red. These guys are such tops."

Lister snorted.

"Sir?"

"Nothing Kryts." Lister beamed at the reunited pair. "Are you guys good now?"

"Yes, thank you sir," Kryten replied and squeezed the little toaster again.

"Then this calls for a celebration."

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

The crew gathered around the table with their tipple of choice and raised their glasses/bottles/cans.

"A toast!" said Lister.

"Where?!"

"I meant the speech type of toast, Talkie."

"Ah." He lowered his lever in disappointment and Kryten patted him soothingly.

"Best wishes," Lister began again, "to the happy couple. Long may they both… um… process."

"Thank you, sir," Kryten's voice wobbled as he dabbed an oily tear from his eye. "Your approval means so much to us."

"We couldn't ask for a better son."

Lister glared at the toaster but he didn't rise to the comment.

"Now if you'll excuse us, we're going to go and _privately_ make up," said Kryten. He picked up Talkie and the two of them dashed off, giggling.

"Ew," said the Cat. "On that note I'm gonna bail too." He howled and jumped into the vent above to avoid bumping into the amorous appliances in the corridor.

Lister downed the rest of his beer and leaned against the bunks with a depressed sigh.

"Not happy with the outcome?" asked Rimmer. "You should be. You stuck your oar in and managed to paddle the relationship back on course."

"I am made up for 'em…" Lister stared dolefully into the empty can. "But a bit jealous. Must be nice to have someone so devoted to you."

"I'll say," said Rimmer and stood beside him. "That bogbot buffoon was going to erase his program for him."

"What?" Lister yelped.

"Just the baked goods folder. Managed to talk him out of it. I told him if the little toastaholic was worth keeping then he'd love Kryten the way he is."

"Wow, Rimmer." Lister gazed at him with wide eyes. "That's probably the nicest and most mature thing you've ever said. And it was advice to _Kryten_."

Rimmer blushed. "I was only making sure he didn't do anything stupid. Knowing our luck he'd accidentally wipe his whole program and we'd have to go on some madcap adventure to retrieve his original file and have to fight slimy monsters and who knows what else. I was simply avoiding the inconvenience of all that."

 _Sure you were_ , thought Lister and opened another can of beer with a satisfied smile.

**ToasToasToasToasToasT**

"Talkie?"

"Yes, Bagel-Angel?"

Kryten gently placed the toaster down and stroked his casing fondly. "Before we officially get back together, I have to make something clear. I love you dearly, but my work on this ship is very important. I think we need to spend less time together overall. You come first in my heart, of course. But I can't ignore my duties."

"I understand, my Crispy Pancake. I don't mind being left behind for some of your chores. But you'll bring me along on occasion, won't you? It's been lonely in the garbage hold all these years."

"I shall." Kryten kissed him and his LEDs flashed brightly turning the mechanoid's synthetic skin pink. "Now then," Kryten continued, "should we make up for lost time?"

"Indeed," said Talkie and his lights twinkled like a Christmas tree. "In fact, I'm feeling rather kinky tonight."

Kryten put his hand over his mouth. "Oh Talkie, you don't mean…"

"I do." The little toaster tittered salaciously. "Fetch the pop tarts!"

**Author's Note:**

> **The working title for this was "It's only gay if bolts touch"**


End file.
